


do not lament for the fallen (for they are not yet dead)

by kouda



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Based off the fic Téras!, Demons, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 12:41:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouda/pseuds/kouda
Summary: When speaking of demons, ancient myths and legends weave tales of tricksters, of conniving liars and murderers who care of none but themselves. Of irredeemable monsters, always the antagonist of the story, the evil that must be defeated before the hero can claim the glory. As much as Naegi wants to vehemently deny his involvement, that he isn’t like that, that he will be the exception, that he will be the one demon that can still retain his goodness despite everything; his entire being rejects his ideals.--(or, i really like tori's danganronpa monster au (and especially makoto) so i tried writing my own oneshot!)





	do not lament for the fallen (for they are not yet dead)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Téras](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455402) by [Makowo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo). 

Even within a world full of creatures that can kill with only a look, can rip and tear through flesh or bone as if it’s paper, or can even strike terror into the most trained solider’s hearts; demons are feared over all else.

Naegi knows this more than anyone, as passersby on the street flinch away at the sight of his horns, as people who once had sat and talked and laughed with him now only hurriedly make up excuses as to why they can’t hang out, as any slight raise of his voice causes his teachers to apologize with widened eyes for upsetting him. It makes him sick. He’s the same person he was before his transformation, is he not? The same nice, friendly; if a little naive, boy that had gotten into Hope’s Peak through luck only.

(But you’re not the same, his traitorous mind whispers to him in the depths of the night, even as he shivers, squeezing his tail against his body and pulling up the blankets. You’re not even a person now.)

He knows the more self-hating part of his brain has a point. Something has changed within him. As much as he wants to deny the rush of adrenaline he gets when a human looks at him with large, scared, eyes, trembling at the sight of his own piercing gaze; he knows that he wants nothing more but to laugh. At both the fragility of others, (how easily he could rake his claws down another’s chest! How simple it would be to sink his teeth into skin and pull until it comes clean off!) and the fragility of his own humanity.

When speaking of demons, ancient myths and legends weave tales of tricksters, of conniving liars and murderers who care of none but themselves. Of irredeemable monsters, always the antagonist of the story, the evil that must be defeated before the hero can claim the glory. As much as Naegi wants to vehemently deny his involvement, that he isn’t like that, that he will be the exception, that he will be the one demon that can still retain his goodness despite everything; his entire being rejects his ideals.

He still dreams of death. (Of his own, or another’s; he’s still not sure.)

“Naegi-kun?” A quiet, yet strong voice cuts him out of his thoughts, rock-hard, stony hands lightly shaking his shoulders.

Naegi lazily blinks, his cat-like green eyes suddenly coming to focus at the touch. “Ah...Kirigiri-san?” Silence, for a moment, before he jolts up, realization dawning. “I’m so sorry! You were talking about your latest case, and I just totally zoned out…” He frowns, tail drooping in disappointment behind him.

“It’s fine.” The response is quick, curt; but the months of Naegi familiarizing himself with her speaking patterns catch the slight chuckle to her voice. “Would you rather us go somewhere else? It’s getting late.” She glances upwards at the moon shining overhead, and with a start, Naegi realizes he hasn’t noticed the darkness at all.

“Yeah, of course-” He begins to reply, before a sudden twitch in his wings causes him to wince and cut off his sentence. The grimace must show on his face, as Kirigiri only sighs and shakes her head.

“...More transformation pains?” She gives him a look of pity, (and oh, Naegi hates that, hates that look of concern in his peer’s eyes even more than the fear,) and stands up wordlessly, brushing the microscopic grains of dirt off of her skirt. “You should probably get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, leaving the courtyard before Naegi can protest that he’s okay, that it doesn’t really hurt, that she shouldn’t worry. She’s heard the excuses all before. As admirable his spirit of self-sacrifice is, Kirigiri knows to not push him too far. He’s sure to break someday, and one doesn’t have to be a detective to realize his limit is nearing fast.

“Oh, bye, Kirigiri-san,” his voice trails off, hand still half-raised in a wave goodbye. He stands up slowly, hooves meeting grass underfoot as he stretches his arms out; until another popping sensation in his wings makes him stop. This time, it’s more painful; the extra features ache like no other part of his body has ached before, phantom pains of what his limbs should have been long ago.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, biting his tongue with too-sharp canines as to lessen the noise and not disturb the other students with more sensitive hearing. (Hope’s Peak’s courtyard, though not well-traveled by students, rests in the middle of the school’s grounds. Rather inconvenient for those trying to sleep, especially at ten p.m.)

Another flare of pain sends him reeling, and the next few minutes are a blur as he stumbles into his dorm room and collapses into his bed. His wings flutter, unintentionally, and he flexes them, carefully rolling his shoulders as to ease his discomfort.

Naegi spreads his wings out to their full length, and though the pain disappears, the odd misplaced sensation that usually stays in the depths of his core suddenly rushes over him tenfold.

Ah. He recognizes the feeling, now that his wings no longer remain cooped up in the back of his hoodie. Longing. He wants to fly away, to escape, to take off from Hope’s Peak and leave everything behind.

He wants to give in to what he was meant to do, what he was meant to be. To forget about morals, and to stop ignoring the voice in his head that whispers thoughts of murder and crime in the dead of night.

Naegi is a demon, is he not? As much as he hates the thought of it, as much as he wants to argue until his voice gives out that he’d never be one of them, the cold, hard, facts remain.

Demons, after all, are feared for good reason.

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for any ooc-ness, this is really the first time i've ever written a danganronpa fic. i'd appreciate any comments and/or criticism, but above all, i hope you enjoyed!


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